


We Were Born To Die

by PStarkRogers



Series: Morning Glories [4]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Damian is dead, Gen, He is only a tombstone, M/M, Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PStarkRogers/pseuds/PStarkRogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Fuck you, Damian Wayne Al Guhl. Fuck you and your ability to wiggle into my heart. Fuck. You. How could you go and get yourself killed, after all that you’ve been through? Dumb…Little…Fuck."</i> </p><p>Damian's death had affected each member of the family differently, but for Jason Todd, his original reaction had been denial, and an inability to accept the truth. But the time has come to accept the truth once and for all, and sometimes the only way to do that is to see that very real and very cold reality of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Were Born To Die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClintFuckingBarton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClintFuckingBarton/gifts).



> Here's a box of tissues. Goodbye.

The morning breeze tousled his white bangs, moving them in and out of his eyes. He sighed and pushed them back, even though he knew it was useless. Useless to fight the wind, useless to fight death. Kids grew up believing they were invincible, damn near immortal. But then they got older, wiser—fearful. They started seeing death all around them, in the eyes of old men who knew their time was coming; in the eyes of soldiers going to war, most of whom knew they would never come back. 

And that’s what they were, wasn’t it? Soldiers going to war? They were the Bat’s soldiers, his army of bird-kids. Robin, Nightwing, Batgirl, Black Bat…Red Hood. He smirked at that. He had never fit in, not really. Even in the beginning he had been the odd one out, the one who didn’t quite fit in. He had always tried so hard to be the Robin Dick had been, but never succeeded. He was too volatile, too impulsive. Too quick to attack first and ask questions later. What could he say? He had always had an itchy trigger finger. 

He shook his head, raised his eyes to the cloudless sky, then looked down with a sigh. Someone had taken time to plant flowers around the kid’s grave, and they were finally starting to bloom. It was nice, but at the same time it felt out of place for  _this_ kid,  _this_ grave. 

"Man, you would be so angry if you could see this. They planted  _tulips._  Those flowers are way too common and happy for you. You need something a little darker…Maybe blood roses?” He chuckled at that, and then watched as a little drop of water hit the ground in front of him. “Oh god damn it, it’s raining. Can you believe that? I pick the one day to come visit when it’s raining…” He swallowed hard and shook his head, watching as more and more water hit the ground. 

"I’m not really sure what I’m going to do without you. You gave me back my passion, my reason for living…You brought the fire back into my life in a way nothing has. God knows killing stupid druglords isn’t exactly the most exciting of hobbies…Not for me. Hell, not even for you, not that you ever killed. God though, I wish you had. I wish you had just been a little more willing to cross that line, to do what needed to be done. I…" He coughed a few times, and he felt a sob building in his throat. 

"This is ridiculous. I’m crying my woes out to a stone in the ground. We both know you can’t hear me now. Sure, your body is in there, but that’s all that’s in there. Your soul is who knows where now…probably hell, knowing you. Even if you could get into heaven, which I doubt, I don’t think you’d like it there. Too white, too happy for your taste, I think." He laughed, and as he laughed he felt the laughter change into a sob. The tears came with more and more frequency, watering the flowers lining the tombstone. He sank down to his knees and gripped the thick stone, resting his head on it. 

"Fuck you, Damian Wayne Al Guhl. Fuck you and your ability to wiggle into my heart. Fuck. You. How could you go and get yourself killed, after all that you’ve been through? Dumb…Little…Fuck." He sniffed and looked up at the name carved into the stone. He traced the D with his fingers, feeling every smooth curve and line. "You know, I once got to see my own tombstone. Now  _there’s_ an odd feeling…Nothing quite like seeing your own name carved in a stone where your body is suppose to be. ‘Jason Todd’ it said. But honestly, what’s in a name? As far I’m concerned, not much…But you always did take such pride in your name, didn’t you? Damian…Wayne…Al Guhl. You had a lot of names, and every single one of them was something to be proud of. Lucky little fuck.” 

Jason shook his head and stumbled to his feet, using the stone for support. He took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself. “I brought you those flowers I mentioned earlier. I don’t know how long they’ll last, but maybe they’ll last long enough for you to come back and see them yourself.” He bent down and laid a small bouquet of dark burgundy roses at the base of the grave. He patted the headstone once more, like perhaps it was the runt’s head. 

As he was walking away though, Jason Todd turned back just slightly, and said in a slightly raised voice, “And you better come back. I don’t want you to be the only Robin who stays dead. That would be so stupid, don’t you think?” The wind swayed in response, the air whistling through the leaves and branches. Jason grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

He then walked out of the Wayne Cemetery, knowing that the next time he came back, it wouldn't be for  _this_ Wayne. 


End file.
